


Dirt and Glass

by Nuffers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Arts, F/M, More will be tagged when they show up, No Relationship For Now, Self-Discovery, Sorry these tags are awful, Tagged basic characters for now, Will add as it develops, major character deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8182411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuffers/pseuds/Nuffers
Summary: It’s hard to pinpoint the moment it all started. The moment when everything changed. Looking back on my life, I wonder if I could’ve done anything differently. If I could’ve somehow stopped myself from making so many damning mistakes. I wonder if I can even call them mistakes, when they've made me who I am today.The irony doesn’t escape me, that history remembers me as a hero. It always struck me as odd, how quickly people forgot. But as the years passed – and as the bodies sunk deeper beneath the earth – the story of Harry Potter slowly changed from a nightmare into a fairytale. And now nobody is left to remember the real story.Nobody except me. Ahh, but forgive me. You aren’t here to read my ramblings. You’re here for the story, right?The one where I defeat Voldemort and save the world?Be warned – it won’t be anything like what you expected. So don’t say I didn’t warn you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into Harry Potter fanfiction. Hope you enjoy :) And please leave a comment so I can get some constructive criticism! Thanks!

It was a very tense Harry Potter that made his way down the sidewalk towards the Little Whinging playground that late afternoon.

The sun hung low in the sky, its rays beating thick and heavy against the back of my neck in one last hurrah before it sunk below the horizon. It glinted harshly off the chrome of various cars and into the scrunched eyes of their owners, either just arriving home from a long day at the office, or just heading out for an overpriced evening meal with the family. It made it easier to pretend that the screwed-up faces of everyone I passed were simply a coincidence, and had nothing at all to do with my unwelcome presence.

Willful obliviousness. The Dursleys would have approved.

The angry scowl I offered to anyone who dared make eye contact, maybe not so much.

But I couldn’t help it – It was getting harder to ignore everything, to pretend that everything was okay, when it most decidedly was _not_. Ever since the end of the Triwizard Tournament, I’d lived every day expecting that _this_ day would finally be the day that Voldemort revealed himself to the world at large. End this fucked up waiting game. Because that’s what it was – a game. Voldemort was _toying_ with me, like a cat hovering above a rat in a maze, licking its lips every time the rat slammed its head against the walls. The threat of an attack was an ever-looming presence. It was with me when I brushed my teeth, when I ate the stale bread Aunt Petunia tried to pass off as toast, and when I laid down for another night of disturbing dreams from which I awoke feeling even more exhausted than before.

Because Voldemort was back. He was out there. He could be plotting my death right now. And I had no idea what was going on – not even a clue. Just the knowledge of the threat, just enough to make sure that I was constantly on edge, without any real outlet for the building tension.

It wouldn’t have been so agonizing had there been anything else I could do to occupy my thoughts and keep myself from dwelling on how much I _wasn’t_ doing. 

But there was nothing. I had completed all my summer homework – and even gone through my old textbooks – within the first three weeks of summer. I wasn’t allowed to use magic, Vernon would sooner dance the flamenco before letting me have a turn at the telly, and I was already so sick of reading the newspaper that I no longer did anything but scan the front page before tossing it away in disgust. Once the world finally realized that Voldemort was back, it would be front page news. 

Which left me with naught to do but to enjoy the nonexistent pleasures of Little Whinging.

Christ, sometimes it felt like I was losing my mind. 

So as it was, my lack of options had resulted in me spending most of my time roaming around the neighborhood with a keen sort of restlessness that never really abated. Little Whinging was steeped in the same strict adherence to normality that my Aunt and Uncle held up as the standard for all ‘decent folk,’ and it all just seemed… too perfect. Too quiet. Too secure in its drowsy normality. Like an idyllic little town perched upon the slope of a volcano in the days of antiquity, waiting for a destruction that was utterly inevitable, and yet utterly unforeseen until lava ran red through the streets. Part of me expected Voldemort to come swooping down at any moment, and the rest wondered how so many people could continue living their typical mundane lives, so completely unaware of the danger that lurked around the corner.

Christ, sometimes it felt like I was losing my mind.

Didn’t I say that already?

And so that was how I found myself padding down the emptying sidewalks of Little Whinging and drifting half-heatedly into the playground that laid nestled in the heart of picture-perfect suburbia. 

To my surprise, some small little boy was already there, swinging by himself on the lone unbroken seat that Dudley’s gang hadn’t managed to vandalize yet. I looked around for his parents, but they were nowhere to be found. Frowning – because didn’t anyone realize that a Dark Lord hellbent on murder and genocide was on the loose? – I walked up and lifted my hand in a lame sort-of wave, but the kid took one look at the ‘dangerously unstable Potter boy’ and outright bolted off the swing and out of the playground. 

It stung, but honestly, I couldn’t blame him. 

Only no-good hooligans like me were out and about this late in the afternoon.

I slumped into the newly vacant swing and kicked at the dirt. 

Stupid dirt.

 _’Ahh but Harry,’_ I imagined Dumbledore saying, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, _‘Dirt might be common and ordinary, but it is thanks to dirt that all life is able to grow. Which makes it quite extraordinary, wouldn’t you say?’_

I scoffed in self-reproach. I had made it an unofficial rule that no matter how much time I spent doing nothing, I was to avoid thinking about Dumbledore at all costs. Because thinking about the man who’d decided that I’d spend the whole summer in this hellhole, about who had isolated me from my friends, about who had so thoroughly cut me out of the loop and left me to dwell with such crippling uncertainty and doubt and _fear_ …. It would lead me down a rabbit hole that I had no intention of following. 

Because I trusted him. Damn it all, I still trusted Albus Dumbledore.

I just had to keep reminding myself that Dumbledore had put me here for a reason. The magic of my mother’s sacrifice would protect me so long as I lived with my Aunt Petunia, who shared my mother’s blood. Indeed, Voldemort himself had acknowledged the power of my mother’s protection, that fateful night in the Little Hangleton cemetery.

So I could understand why Dumbledore had done it. I could see why it was safest for me here. 

But that didn’t mean that I had to like it.

I just wished that I could be somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else. But more than anything, I wished that I could be wherever in the bleeding hell Ron and Hermione were. Because Ron and Hermione’s letters hadn’t told me much, but I had gathered that they were both together somewhere in some secret place where the anti-Voldemort effort was being coordinated. Top secret stuff, apparently. So top secret that they couldn’t write to me about anything of substance. 

It was frustrating beyond belief. Because why had they been let in on the secret, but not me? Hadn’t I proven myself more capable than anyone at being able to stop Voldemort? 

More than Ron and Hermione?

But no. There I was, swinging on an old run-down swing set, consigned to a summer of drudgery, and living in a world where magic didn’t even exist. 

My foot jabbed more aggressively at the dirt, digging deeper into the modest trench and sending plumes of dust into the air.

_Stupid bloody Voldemort. Stupid bloody Dursleys! Stupid bloody – !_

My one-sided assault on the soil was interrupted by a loud group of boys telling bawdy jokes and laughing uproariously as they walked past the playground. It was Dudley and his two goons, Malcolm and Gordon. Dudley often claimed to be out drinking tea and doing homework, but I knew that he and his little gang spent most of their nights wandering around the neighborhood looking for smaller kids to beat up. Despite me no longer being that small or that scrawny, a long history of Harry Hunting ensured that I would always be one of their prime targets. The smartest thing to do would be to sneak away now and hope that they wouldn’t see me.

But I wasn’t feeling particularly cautious. The mere thought of running away like that little kid from earlier left a sour taste in my mouth. Because even if I was beaten to a bloody pulp, it would still be better than this endless stream of milquetoast monotony. Hell, this would be the most excitement I’d had in weeks!

The wind picked up, as the afternoon had drifted into evening during my vague ruminations. The sky was seared with an impressive array of orange and red clouds, but I had little time or desire to appreciate the sunset, because Dudley’s gang finally noticed my presence.

“Ey Big D, ain’t that your freak cousin?” asked Gordon.

“What does he think he’s doing, hanging out on our turf?” exclaimed Malcolm to the angry disapproval of the rest of the group.

They started making their way towards me, and the fresh thrum of adrenaline was like the first glorious purr of an engine that had sat idle for far too long.

“Hey Freak!” Malcolm taunted. “Why are you out here all alone? Where are your friends? OH WAIT! You don’t have any friends!”

I grimaced at the edge of truth his words carried, the tension racketing up as I realized that the three boys, now far too close for comfort, had easily 5 or 6 stone on me, and that I was truly all alone.

“Look at ‘em! ‘E looks like ‘e’s about to shit ‘emself!” chortled Gordon, cracking his knuckles.

“Aw, is the Freak sad because no one likes him?” Malcolm simpered.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Dudley prodded. Despite his joining-in, I could tell that he was a little bit hesitant. Probably because he knew the sorts of things I could do to him and his gang if I used magic. 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to use magic during the summer. 

The lucky bastards.

The wind picked up even more, bending small tree branches and tossing around leaves.

“You should just leave me alone,” I finally tried, even though my heart wasn’t in it. I was too hyped, too tense – I was already planning for the perfect moment to strike. Because no matter how outnumbered I was, I wasn’t going to just roll over and take a beating. No – all I needed was a certain element of surprise. All I had to do was wait...

“Why should we? You gonna go tattle-tale to your parents?” Malcolm mocked, seemingly oblivious to the flare of genuine rage he’d ignited by mentioning my parents. “Your dead, deadbeat parents? Why don’t you have any parents, Freak?”

“Mummy must’ve died choking on ‘is daddy’s cock!” jeered Gordon. “And ‘is dad must’ve killed ‘emself once he realized ‘e had a freak son and a whore wife –!”

I snapped.

I tackled Gordon to the ground, my fists pummeling everywhere they could reach, right as the world went dark.

“’E’s crazy! Get ‘em off me!”

His nose crunched under my fist and spurted out a stream of blood. 

“GET DEM OFF!”

I punched again, and again, until a pair of meaty hands heaved me off the now-unconscious cunt who had dared say such obscene things about my Mom and Dad. My blood pounded through my veins with vindictive justice. They were heroes! He had no right to even _mention_ them!

_He’s here, he found us! Take Harry and run, I’ll try to hold him off!_

_Not Harry! No!_

My mind echoed with the last words of my parents, my mom screaming…

A fist came out of nowhere and collided with my stunned face. I collapsed onto the ground, my vision blurry, my thoughts curiously slow.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“It’s the freak, he’s doing something!” 

“I’ll stop him!”

Dudley started kicking at my prone body while Malcolm bent down to try and shake Gordon awake. But I hardly felt it. Everything was too numb, too hazy. I looked up, and wondered how it could be pitch black so early in the evening. And was that fog?

_Kill the spare._

_Avada kedavra!_

_No! Not Harry, please!_

Sluggishly I watched as two Dementors swooped down onto the playground.

…Dementors! 

I struggled to recall what to do. I tried to force my limbs into action, but everything was moving too slow, _too slow!_

Dudley gave up on kicking me and started punching wildly into empty air. Malcolm meanwhile had lugged a dazed-looking Gordon to his feet and had him slumped against his shoulders. They looked around frantically, their gazes passing right through the two Dementors rapidly approaching.

 _Muggles can’t see Dementors,_ I remembered blearily, a footnote in one of Professor Lupin’s lessons.

“Dudley, make him stop!” Malcolm called out, the terror plain in his voice as the Dementors got closer. 

They still thought that I was the one causing it all, but they had no idea what sort of danger they were in. Dementors were the darkest of dark creatures, and fed by sucking all the happiness from their victims. Why they were here, in Little Whinging, instead of guarding Azkaban, I couldn’t even begin to imagine – it was taking every bit of my mental fortitude to remain conscious through the sheer terror inspired by their presence.

_Stand aside, you foolish girl!_

_Not Harry! No! Take me instead!_

The creatures, cloaked in ragged black robes, lowered their cowls in unison. Beneath their hoods wheezed a horrifying visage of rotting grey skin, with no other features save a gaping black maw. They drifted forward and clasped their skeletal hands onto the jumpers of Gordon and Malcom, and I suddenly realized what they were about to do. The ultimate act, after which there was no return.

They were going to kiss them. They were going to suck out their souls!

_And I was the only one who could stop them._

With an almighty lurch I heaved myself up – my ears ringing like a clarion bell with my mother’s continuous screams – and grabbed my wand from my pocket.

“Expecto Patronum!” I screamed. My stomach fell in panic as the spell failed and only summoned forth a wispy plume of white vapor. It was barely enough to make the Dementors drop Malcolm and Gordon, who fell to the ground like sacks of potatoes, their eyes wide-open and empty.

_Empty eyes._

_I was too late!_

Guilt, anger, fear – they swallowed me. My mind raced in circles at how two people had lost their souls right in front of me, and oh fuck their eyes!

_Sirius! Hermione, we have to help him!_

_It’s too late Harry. He’s been kissed._

My distraction proved fatal as Dudley, being the last one standing, yanked my wand out of my hands and chucked it into the air. I watched in slow motion as it landed into the grass at least a dozen meters away.

“Stop it Harry! I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry we messed with you! Just please stop doing whatever it is – “

“Dudley, you idiot!” I cried out, scrambling towards my wand.

Being the genius he was, Dudley grabbed hold of my chest and held me back.

“Dudley, let go! I’m trying to save us! Dudley!”

But the atmosphere of fear was so thick that Dudley only clenched tighter, utterly terrified and utterly convinced that I was somehow behind it all. So I did the only thing I could do – I reared back and bashed my head against his nose with a sickening **Crack!**

He yelped and released me, letting me stumble away. The entire world tilted and spun as I staggered on my hands and knees towards my wand while the Dementors drifted back towards us.

_Blood from an enemy, forcibly taken._

_You shall resurrect your foe!_

_My wand, Wormtail._

I grabbed my wand from the grass and spun around right as the Dementors approached. One was drifting towards me, and the other was advancing on Dudley, who was still clasping his bleeding nose.

“Expecto Patronum!” I yelled.

Nothing happened. 

The Dementor was close now, close enough for me to smell it’s decaying flesh and hear its rotten mouth sucking in giant heaves of air.

“Expecto Patronum!” I tried again, panic turning into outright horror as it failed once more.

The Dementor reached forward and grasped onto my jacket with its skeletal hands, and suddenly I was too afraid to move at all.

This was it. 

Voldemort was going to win. 

Darkness and pain would swallow the earth. 

Everyone I ever loved would be killed.

I clenched my eyes shut as the Dementor’s mouth approached my own. Sirius, Hermione, Ron, the Weasleys, Hagrid, Dobby, Hedwig… they were dead. They were all dead!

_Playing hide and seek?_

No… they weren’t dead…

_Bow to death, Harry!_

No!

_BOW TO DEATH!_

**NO!**

Right as the Dementor’s rotten lips touched my own, I saw my parents surrounded by glowing white mist. 

They were smiling at me. 

My limbs unlocked, and my eyes flew open as I jabbed my wand between our mouths and into the Dementor’s sucking maw.

_“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_

Prongs roared out of my wand, galloping straight through the Dementor’s insides and exploding out the back of it. Sickly black ichor splattered all over my mouth and face as pieces of the Dementor went flying in every direction. I spat it out as Prongs continued his attack. 

He charged towards the Dementor hovering over Dudley, his hooves flashing as he reared up to strike. The Dementor screeched and dropped Dudley, slithering away from Prongs and fleeing into the night. 

And just like that, the curtain of fear and darkness lifted. 

The blackness faded to reveal a deep purple sky with a few waves of golden orange where the sun had just fallen below the horizon. 

There was a softness in the air – a warm chill of summer twilight. 

My parents had saved my life yet again.

Prongs snorted and trotted back towards me. He nickered as I patted his nose.

“Thanks Prongs,” I murmured. “I… I missed you. Say hello to Mom for me, alright?”

He neighed softly, and then with one last pat, dissolved into white smoke that floated away into the breeze. 

I took a few deep breaths. The summer night’s wind was cool and sweet, but was marred by the lingering stench of death on my tongue. I felt sapped. Drained. But this wasn’t over yet. The Dementors might be gone, but there were still three boys laying motionless on the ground around me. 

Dudley was flat on his back and his nose was still bleeding. But as I got closer, I could finally see the truth. 

His eyes were open and glassy in a sightless stare.

Dudley had been kissed. 

He no longer had a soul. 

My mind reeled as I tried to grasp the implications. My hands started shaking, and I heard a high pitched whine that came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Dudley had lost his soul. 

He had lost his _soul!_

I doubled over, a strangled cry tearing from my throat. 

Dudley was dead because of _me._ Because I wasn’t able to cast a spell that I already _knew!_

_Failure! Pathetic! **Weak!**_

And now he was dead. Just like Cedric.

I could barely comprehend it.

My stomach clenched even harder when I thought of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Their only son had been murdered by the very magic that they had always feared and despised. Their fear had always amused me, but now it didn’t seem so funny. What could I possibly say to them? How could they possibly understand? How could I even explain to them what Dementors were, what they did, why they were here in the first place?

Realization hit me like a lightening bolt, stemming the tears that were trickling down my cheeks. Two Dementors wouldn’t just randomly drift into an unremarkable Muggle suburb. They had come here because of _me._

Voldemort. He must have sent them here to kill me.

_My fault. It was my fault._

A cold numbness washed over me, and I woodenly used my sleeve to wipe away the remaining wetness around my eyes. Because if Voldemort had figured out a way to bypass my mother’s protection, then my Aunt and Uncle were in danger. So even though I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and pretend that this was all a bad dream, the first thing I had to do was get back to Privet Drive.

And I needed to bring Dudley back with me.

I stood up and once again looked at Dudley’s sightless eyes – 

– No, I couldn’t think about it. Not now.

Carrying Dudley without magic would be practically impossible, but looking at the prone forms of the other boys, I realized that I couldn’t just leave them here in the playground. So, figuring it was hardly the time to worry about the restriction against underage magic, I drew my wand and fired off three levitation spells. And since their floating bodies were hardly inconspicuous, I cast another three Notice-Me-Not charms to keep any nosy neighbors from seeing us. 

And then I started walking.

Their bodies dipped and bobbed as I lead us towards Number 4 in a grotesque mockery of a line. It drew a striking parallel to my third year, and the lone howl of a dog in the twilight darkness put my frayed nerves further on edge. There were no werewolves in Little Whinging, I reminded myself. 

But then again, there weren’t supposed to be any Dementors either.

My eyes and ears were pricked for any sign of danger, and my mind spun as I considered what sort of situation would await me back at the Dursleys. The thought sickened me as soon as it came, but perhaps it would be more merciful if Voldemort had already gotten to Petunia and Vernon. Then they would never have to know about what had happened to their son. About the empty husk with Dudley’s face on it. About his slackened mouth and empty eyes and – 

– No, I couldn’t think about it. Not now.

My steps grew slower as I turned onto Privet Drive and approached Number 4. The house looked normal enough on the outside, but that didn’t mean anything. Tonight had long since crossed the line into a dangerous situation, and I’d had enough of those to know to be prepared for anything. 

I ended the levitation charms and readied my wand. If there were any Death Eaters inside – or Merlin forbid, Voldemort himself – then I couldn’t hesitate. 

A single drop of sweat dripped down my forehead, along my cheek, and into the corner if my mouth.

And then, I charged.

_“Expulso!”_

The door blasted apart, shreds of wood pricking my skin and flying in every direction as I careened through the doorway. 

_“Expelliar –!”_

I stopped mid-cast, the magic petering out as I stared at the utterly flabbergasted faces of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

I let out a deep breath and lowered my wand.

They were safe.

“What in the blazes do you think you’re doing?” exclaimed Uncle Vernon, looking equal parts furious and fearful. He stood up from his puce green armchair with surprising quickness for a man of his size.

“Quick, get inside!” hissed Aunt Petunia, her floral house dress flapping around her knees as she rushed to close the door. It hardly mattered - the wood was little more than a jagged frame held together by a few cracked splinters, and was far too destroyed to escape the notice of her nosy neighbors.

At least they wouldn’t see the kissed boys laying on the front lawn, on account of the Notice-Me-Not charms.

“Sorry,” I croaked. My voice sounded about as haggard as I felt. “I’m sorry, I’ll put it away.” 

I dutifully stashed my wand into my jacket pocket and they both noticeably relaxed.

But Uncle Vernon was still very, very angry. 

“What did I tell you about doing that sort of freakishness in our home? First the pudding, then Marge, and now this? That’s it, I’ve had it!”

“I’m sorry, but something bad… something REALLY bad has happened. I need to tell you -”

“Of course something bad has happened!” Vernon interrupted. “Freakish things are always happening around you! I always knew you were a freak, and now this finally proves it! Who’s blood is that, eh?”

“Exactly, blood all over the carpet. The front door _ruined!”_ Petunia railed.

“This is the last straw!” agreed Vernon, his face turning red as he worked himself up. “I’ll have no part in this kind of trouble! I want you out of here boy, do you here me? Get out of my house!”

An owl took that moment to burst in through the kitchen window that Petunia had unlatched to let in some of the summer breeze. 

“OWLS!” Vernon screamed, jumping and swinging his fists as if to knock it down. It swooped in and deposited a letter at my feet, screeching angrily at Vernon as it flew back out the window. I picked up the letter, apprehension seeping through my veins as I realized it was the same sort of letter I had gotten back in Second Year when Dobby levitated the pudding. 

“What does it say, boy?” Vernon demanded. “I’ll have you know that –”

He continued ranting, but all I heard was static as I opened the envelope and stared down at the letter that politely informed me that I had been expelled from Hogwarts and that Ministry officials were on their way to come snap my wand. 

I had to get out of here. I had to get out of here right bloody now.

“Fine!” I shouted, the letter bursting into flames in my hand. “Fine, you want me gone? I’ll leave! In fact, nothing would make me happier than to get out of this house!” 

Vernon and Petunia exchanged startled glances.

“But before I go I need to tell you something, so just listen! Voldemort is back. He’s back, alright? And he just sent two Dementors to kill me, but theysuckedoutDudleyssoulinstead,” I attempted, the words at the end tumbling from my mouth in a garbled heap.

“WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING THOSE SORTS OF WORDS?!”

“Wait,” Petunia said, suddenly looking uncertain. “What did you just say? He… He’s back?”

I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, Petunia did have a magical sister, as much as she tried to ignore that fact. So it made sense that my mom must’ve told her a little bit about Voldemort. 

“Yeah,” I bit out. “Voldemort is back. He resurrected himself a few months ago. I fought him and escaped. And now he’s out to kill me.”

Petunia slumped onto the couch, her head falling into her hands. I took this as my cue to run upstairs – the Ministry officials could get here at any moment, and there wasn’t a second to waste. I cursed bitterly when I saw that Hedwig was still out hunting, as I had planned to use her to contact Sirius. Hopefully she would find me wherever I ended up going.

“Petunia, what’s he saying? What’s all this rubbish?” Vernon questioned, sounding unsure. The noise carried up the stairs, but I couldn’t hear Petunia’s reply as I began rapidly shoving all my possessions into my school trunk. I pried open the loose floorboard to retrieve my photo album, the Marauders Map, and finally my Invisibility Cloak, which I tucked under my shirt in case I needed to put it on in a hurry. I left Hedwig’s empty cage since it would only slow me down, and cast a quick Feather-Light charm on my trunk as I carried it downstairs. 

“BOY!” screamed Uncle Vernon, who I ignored as I wordlessly blasted open the lock on the cupboard under the stairs. 

“I’LL NOT HAVE YOU DOING THAT STUFF IN MY HOUSE! STOP IT RIGHT NOW IF YOU – BLOODY OWLS!”

He was once again interrupted as two more owls swooped into the house and dropped letters off at my feet. One of the owls I didn’t recognize, but the other one was named Errol and belonged to the Weasley family. Errol tried to follow behind the other owl as it flew out of the window, but instead crashed into the nearby China hutch, eliciting a scream from Aunt Petunia. Vernon grabbed a broom and started chasing Errol around the house in a scene of utter mayhem.

As comic as it was, amusement was the furthest thing from my mind. With the Dursleys distracted and the cupboard unlocked, I started shoveling all my school books into my trunk, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in my chest at the fact that I’d never be able to go to Hogwarts again. I’d never get to go to classes with Ron and Hermione, I’d never get to eat in the Great Hall, I’d never get to play Quidditch – 

– But I couldn’t think about that now.

I shouldered my Firebolt, figuring I could tie my trunk to the end of it and fly away under my Invisibility Cloak. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was the only one I had.

Now that I was ready to leave, I bent down and picked up the two letters. Vernon and Petunia were still occupied with Errol, so I took a moment to read them through. One was from Mr. Weasley telling me to stay put and that Dumbledore was trying to sort things out in the Ministry. The other was from Professor Lupin saying pretty much the same thing. Stay put, stop using magic, and let Dumbledore handle things. 

I tossed them to the ground, angry and disappointed. If they thought I was going to risk having my wand snapped, they were dead wrong.

With an almighty thwack of the broom Vernon finally succeeded in shoving Errol out of the kitchen window, latching it closed behind him with a Good riddance! His face was beat red as he practically collapsed onto the couch, huffing and puffing like a steam train. While Vernon caught his breath, Petunia surprised me yet again by asking another question.

“What was it that you said earlier, about Dudders and… demendons?”

“Dementors,” I corrected automatically. “They guard Azkaban, the prison – “

“The prison for _your_ kind, yes, I know,” Petunia said, shocking both me and her husband. “Oh don’t give me that look. I tried to keep myself away from it all, but some of the things that Lily told me… They were so terrible, I just couldn’t forget them,” she continued, looking at Vernon apologetically. As if having knowledge of the wizarding world was some great shame. “But what does it have to do with Dudley?”

My heart clenched. I wanted to do this delicately, but there wasn’t enough time.

“Voldemort sent them here to kill me,” I began. “I’m not sure how much you know about Dementors, but in addition to feeding on happiness, they can… they can eat people’s souls.”

“What’s this nonsense he’s spouting about – “

“Hush, Vernon,” Petunia said, her sharp eyes riveted on mine.

It was the first time I had ever heard her interrupt her husband.

My chest tightened, but I was already committed. I had to see this through.

“The Dementors came right as I got into a fight with Dudley and his friends,” I explained softly. “Muggles, that is, non-magic people, can’t see Dementors, so Dudley thought I was the one doing it all. He grabbed my wand and chucked it. By the time I got my wand back, it was… it was too late. The Dementor had already gotten to Dudley.”

Petunia gasped, her face blanching.

“So what… you tried giving them the ol’ one-two?” Vernon said, attempting to put the conversations back into terms he could comprehend. “But you couldn’t, and Dudley got knocked out?”

I swallowed through the lump in my throat. “Something like that. Except this knockout lasts forever. Like a… like a coma.”

“A coma?!” Vernon yelled, finally realizing the seriousness of what was going on.

“They’re outside,” I stated, opening the front door. Vernon and Petunia followed me as I lifted the Notice-Me-Not charms. Upon seeing their son, they both rushed forward and knelt down onto the perfectly manicured lawn, for once not caring about getting grass stains on their perfectly starched clothes. 

And then I watched as two fully grown adults broke down. 

“DUDDERS! Dudley, Mummy’s here! Dudley, it’s okay now, you can wake up! I won’t let anything hurt you!” Aunt Petunia sobbed. She started shaking him back and forth, but he didn’t so much as blink. 

“DUDLEY!” she wailed, collapsing on top of him. “Please Dudley… please…. I’m so sorry! I’ll buy you anything you want! I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You can order anything on the menu! Just please wake up, please, I love you so much, I’m so sorry!” 

Vernon meanwhile was sitting on the grass, silent tears pouring from his eyes.

I think, in a way, that it was his grief that shook me the most. Because in all my years of living with the Dursleys, I had never once seen Vernon cry. Or even get sad, really. 

So I averted my gaze and started walking away, feeling the moment was too private for me to witness. I had never truly been a part of their family, and so I would not infringe on the very worst moment of their lives. 

And besides, the clock was ticking. I expected the Aurors would get there at any moment.

What I did not expect was for Vernon to stand up and tackle me from behind like a madman, his meaty fists clenching into a vice grip around my throat. 

“Dudley is dead because of YOU!” he bellowed, spittle spraying from his mouth. “I’LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SON!”

My hands scrabbled at his fingers, but his grip was too strong. He was possessed with a singularity of rage that gave him an almost supernatural strength. Already, my vision danced with black spots.

 _I was trying to save him!_ I thought, but even in my head the words rung empty. Vernon wanted vengeance, and the truth was, he probably deserved it. 

But I couldn’t just let him kill me.

A quick jab from my wand sent Vernon flying backwards with a wordless blasting curse. He tumbled onto the ground, the momentum of his weight crashing him against the side of the house and knocking him out cold.

I panted and massaged my throat, trying to will away the bitter taste of betrayal. I knew that Vernon had never loved me. Hell, I knew that he never even liked me. But after seeing the raw hatred screaming from his eyes, it was clear that he would never feel avenged until he saw me dead.

And I couldn’t help but feel just a little sad about it.

“Harry Potter!” an elderly woman announced from behind me. 

My heart dropped from my chest. 

The Ministry was here. 

I’d either have to fight or surrender my wand.

So a fight it was.

I turned around, prepared to do battle, when I was greeted by the sight of an alarmed Mrs. Figg, dressed in a fuzzy pink bathrobe and cat slippers. 

“What in the world is going on?” she asked, staring at the wand that I was holding in the air. I hastily dropped it and shoved it into my jacket while she surveyed the scene. Her cataract eyes scanned over the bodies of the three kissed boys, the unconscious form of my Uncle, and the distraught form of my Aunt. I opened my mouth to give some sort of half-arsed explanation, but she shook her head, effectively shushing me. 

“When Dumbledore flooed me at such a late hour asking me to check up on you, I knew it was bad. I just didn’t know how bad,” Mrs. Figg muttered. “Well come on then, don’t just stand there with your mouth open! We’ve got to get you back inside!” 

“Wait a minute… Dumbledore? Floo? You’re a witch?” I asked incredulously. “How come you never told me?”

“Squib, actually,” she admitted, her wrinkled cheeks blushing a faint pink of embarrassment. “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t supposed to. Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on you from a distance. But good gracious, that hardly matters anymore! Your front lawn looks like a warzone, and you’ve been spotted using magic by Merlin knows how many Muggles...”

She was interrupted by a blinding flash of fire out of which Dumbledore’s phoenix – Fawkes – emerged. But my surge of hope was quickly doused as Fawkes ignored Mrs. Figg and I, and instead flew directly towards Petunia, who still laid sobbing on the ground next to Dudley. He dropped a brilliant red Howler at her feet, trilled once in sad recognition of her terrible grief, and then was gone in another flash of fire.

The Howler exploded a few seconds later.

_**REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA!** _

The words reverberated with power, their importance lingering long after the letter shriveled up into a plume of smoke. 

_Remember my last?_

I was too stunned to say anything, so it fell to Mrs. Figg to ask, “Petunia dear, what was that all about?”

Silence rang out, and I wondered if Petunia would even answer.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Aunt Petunia finally said, her voice brittle and hollow. “The boy is no longer welcome here. He’s taken my son from me, and I won’t let him take anything else. Now get him out of here before I call the police.”

“But Petunia!” Mrs. Figg objected.

“Get. Him. OUT!” Aunt Petunia screamed. She wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t even acknowledge me. 

I felt a strange sensation, almost like tiny specks of sharp rain were dancing across my skin all at once. As the prickling abated, my skull burst into a searing headache that centralized around my scar.

“Well… very well. Come on then, Harry, let’s get you back to my house. Hopefully Dumbledore will be able to sort this mess out.”

Mrs. Figg started marching away, and for lack of any better idea, I blearily staggered behind her. It was incredibly difficult to think through the pounding in my head, but I was still dimly aware that we were passing Number 6, and that this might be the last good look I would ever have of the Dursleys.

I didn’t look back.

And ultimately, it was that decision that saved my life.

I dropped my trunk and broom as my skull erupted in pure agony. My hands clasped at my forehead as blood started seeping out of my lightning-shaped scar. 

_He was coming!_

_Voldemort was here!_

Acting completely on instinct, I ran and dove behind a shrub, yanking my invisibility cloak out in the process. 

“What is – ?”

Mrs. Figgs’ sentence ended in a flash of red light and a blood-curling scream.

I laid paralyzed, the cloak wrapped around me, my heart thundering in my chest, my head hurting so much that I was seeing double. 

Voldemort was here. He was here, on Privet Drive, torturing Mrs. Figg. This had to be some sort of nightmare. It _had_ to be.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Voldemort asked with unfeeling mockery.

“She l-l-looks like a Mu-Muggle, My Lord,” sputtered a pathetic voice that I instantly recognized as Wormtail. 

_I should have killed the filthy traitor when I had the chance!_

“No, Wormtail,” Voldemort disagreed, his menacing whisper somehow audible through the continuous shrieks of Mrs. Figg. “She has a magical broom but no magic, which makes her worse than a Muggle. She is a Squib, no doubt sent here to retrieve Potter. I have never understood why Dumbledore insists on using such useless creatures to do his dirty work. _Avada kedavra!”_

I couldn’t see anything through the bushes, but I could hear Mrs. Figg’s body as it thumped unceremoniously to the ground. My entire body broke into a cold sweat as I realized the terrible, undeniable truth – this wasn’t some sort of dream. Voldemort was here, and he had just murdered Mrs. Figg. And while he had misattributed my trunk and broom to Mrs. Figg, it wouldn’t be long before he figured it out and found me. And this time, there weren’t any portkeys that I could use to get away. 

“W-w-where is h-he, My Lord?”

“He is close. I can _sensssse_ him. His magic feels more familiar than it did before,” Voldemort said, his voice becoming a sibilant hiss as he seemingly smelt the air. 

“M-maybe because you used his b-b-blood for the ritual, Master?”

“Perhaps,” Voldemort allowed. “Soon he will be dead, so it is of no consequence.”

I gulped, the noise sounding too loud in my ears. 

“FREAKS! ABOMINATIONS! GET THE RUDDY HELL OFF MY LAWN!”

It was Vernon, who had chosen the worst moment possible to wake up. 

I used the noise of his outburst to quickly raise my head up and peak through the bushes, knowing that even the smallest sound might give me away, but also knowing that I had to see what was happening if I was to have any hope of an escape.

“Oh look Wormtail, one of the creatures wants to play!” Voldemort laughed, the joyless sound sending a fresh wave of chills up my spine. _“Avada Kedavra!”_

I watched in mute horror as Vernon keeled over, the ruddy flush of his face fading into a dull lifeless white.

Voldemort laughed again, and I fought the urge to throw up.

“Ah, but what have we here?” Voldemort hissed gleefully, turning his sites on an ashen-faced Petunia. “You must be Lily Potter’s _Muggle_ sister. I must admit, it is most fascinating that your filthy blood has managed to protect the boy for so long. But no matter. You have proven that hate and fear are more powerful than love, and for that, you have my gratitude. So listen closely creature, for I will offer you one chance, and only one, to save your miserable life. All you have to do is tell me… _where is Harry Potter?”_

Aunt Petunia trembled, and my heart squeezed in guilt. I couldn’t just sit there and hide. I had to help her.

But how?

“You’re him,” Petunia spoke, her voice broken but strangely unafraid. “You’re Voldemort.”

“I offer you mercy, and you _dare_ speak my name from your unworthy lips? _Crucio!”_

Petunia starting wailing, and Wormtail skittered away in fright, edging closer to where I was hiding. This was my chance, I realized, eyeballing the sweaty man a few feet in front of me. I could take out Wormtail and then focus on Voldemort, hopefully stalling him long enough for the Aurors to arrive. 

Just as I steeled my nerves and raised my wand to do just that – because fuck it, I was probably dead anyway – there was a deafening **CRACK!** as someone materialized right beside me. My heart jumped out of my throat at the unexpected appearance of Lucius Malfoy. 

“My Lord!” Lucius announced, sparing a single disgusted glance for the cowering Wormtail. “My Lord, you were wise to send me to the Ministry. I have just found out that there is a warrant out for Potter’s arrest. He faces charges for what appears to be a rather gross breach of the Decree Against Underage Magic. By the looks of things,” he sneered, nudging his boot against Gordon’s bloodied and soulless form, “Potter was quite busy before the wards fell. That fool Dumbledore is at the Ministry trying to stall the Aurors, but he won’t be able to keep them away for much longer. Amelia Bones is assembling a team as we speak.”

“Madame Bones will have to be dealt with,” Voldemort stated darkly. “This is the second time that she has interfered with my plans. How much time do I have?”

“Two minutes, My Lord. Maybe three.”

“Thank you Lucius. Your information was most timely. You may go.”

Lucius bowed his head and disappeared with another loud **CRACK!**

At Lucius’ departure, Voldemort turned his scarlet gaze back to Aunt Petunia, his mouth curling into another facsimile of a smile. 

“Well pet, as enjoyable as our little chat was, you have outlived whatever usefulness you might have had. The world can not yet know of my return, and so there can be no witnesses of what happened here tonight. Say hello to your sister for me.”

NO!

_”Avada Kedavra!”_

Aunt Petunias body slumped gracefully on top of Dudley’s. 

She was dead.

There was a shriek, and for a single moment, I thought it had come from me, until I saw the mousy-haired neighbor in Number 5 duck back behind the curtains from where she had been snooping. 

Voldemort’s face twisted in an annoyed sneer as he also noticed the snooping neighbor. “Filthy Muggles, always mucking about in the affairs of their betters. _Fiendfyre!”_

A giant fiery snake came screaming out of Voldemort’s wand. It was even bigger than the Basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets, and slithered towards Number 5 almost faster than the eye could see.

 _ **“Burn down all the houssssesss! Kill everyone you ssssee!”**_ Voldemort hissed to it in Parseltongue. 

Wormtail trembled in fear as Number 5 burst into flames, screams filling the air as the snake looped back around for Number 3. The heat was scalding, but I held my position as Voldemort spoke once more.

 _“Harrrrry Potter,”_ he hissed, the words like a curse upon his tongue. “You dissssappoint me. Where was your Gryffindor courage tonight as I slaughtered your entire family? Why do you run and hide like a coward? I know you are here. I know you are watching. And I want you to know that nowhere is safe. I will kill everyone you so foolishly love. And one day very soon, when there is no one left for you to hide behind, you will _beg_ for death. And I will kill you once and for all!”

And with that, he ruthlessly yanked Wormtail’s arm and Disapparated into a cloud of black smoke. 

For a moment, I stood petrified, unable to process everything that had just happened. Heedless of my own inaction, the snake slithered onto Number 4 and set everything in its path ablaze. Malcolm, Gordon, Vernon, Dudley, Petunia – I watched as their bodies went up in flames, their flesh peeling off and melting into little rivulets of goo. The acrid smell of burning fat was strong enough to made my eyes water. The snake then set its sights towards Number 6, towards me, and that’s when my survival instincts finally kicked in. 

I shot towards my broom, the Invisibility Cloak flapping wildly around my trainers as they thundered against the pavement. The snake hissed and slithered forwards as soon as it sensed the movement. I reached my broom and kicked off right as the snake reared up and swallowed my hanging trunk with a single bite, its forked tongue licking at my heels. My broom groaned and sputtered as a few of the rear twigs caught fire, but I pushed it forwards, pulling up and away as I flew higher in the air and beyond the reach of the snake. 

The snake fell back with an angry roar, but whatever victory I felt was cut short as my broom gave a giant shudder that nearly bucked me off the handle. Thick plumes of black smoke were belching out behind me, so I gently guided the broom down behind the alleyway at the corner of Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk – well hidden from the view of the snake. I quickly dismounted, clambering off just in time to avoid the **whoosh** of heat as my Firebolt completely ignited. 

I watched with a strange numbness as it burned to a crisp. 

Now I truly had nothing. Nothing except the clothes on my back, my wand, and the Invisibility Cloak. 

But at least I still had my life. 

There was a sudden chorus of Pops and Cracks that jolted me out of my reverie, and heralded the arrival of the Auror squad. I quickly rewrapped myself in the Invisibility Cloak, but thankfully, the Aurors had not spotted me in my secluded alcove within the alley. 

“Holy mother of Merlin!” exclaimed one of the Aurors, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

Little Whinging was an inferno. The roaring fire was quickly catching to the nearby houses, and the entire sky was filled with choking black smoke and the sounds of screams. Amidst the white-hot flames slithered Voldemort’s giant enchanted snake, which lashed out in angry defiance and charged forwards once it spotted the Aurors.

“Davis, go back to the Ministry and alert the other squads, we need every man on the job to contain this! Dawlish, you and Sturgis get the fire on the left. Jacobs and Biggsly, you get the right. Shacklebolt, you’re with me. Let’s take down that snake!”

The orders were crisply barked by an authoritative older woman with a monocle, and we’re unquestioningly followed as her men sprung into action. Four men split off, two going left and the other two going right, while the fifth Apparated away, presumably to muster reinforcements. The woman and the man named Shacklebolt held their ground and started spitting out jets of water faster than my eyes could track, but the snake just shrugged them off and kept charging.

For a moment, I almost jumped into the fray to join them. The two Aurors were fierce, but the snake was even fiercer, and already they were being put on the defensive. But then logic reminded me that I wasn’t even half as good with spells as they were, and that the only reason they were here at all was to find me and snap my wand – and then chuck me into Azkaban, no doubt.

So I did what I should have done at the very beginning, the very first moment I saw Dudley and his goons.

I ran.

I closed my eyes and focused on the thud of my trainers over the roars and screams of the fire. I couldn’t think about it now. I couldn’t think about anything. I had to come up with a plan. 

_Focus, Harry. What should I do?_

My mind immediately thought of Sirius. He, more than anyone, would know what to do now that I was on the run. But until I could contact him, the next best choice was… the Burrow. Yes, the Burrow. The Weasleys would take me in and protect me while I figured things out. But how would I get there? I no longer had a broom, I didn’t have a portkey, I didn’t know how to Apparate, and I sure as hell couldn’t use the Knight Bus – I knew the Ministry monitored it on account of Fudge being able to find me after I blew up my Aunt Marge.

So what was left? Floo? There weren’t any magical families nearby for miles. The nearest floo I knew of was in the Leaky Cauldron. 

Except… hadn’t Mrs. Figg said something about using the floo? 

_Of course! Mrs. Figg’s house!_

With a destination in mind, I picked up my pace and ran as fast as I could without the Invisibility Cloak slipping around my ankles. A few streets down I spotted a familiar mailbox decorated with kittens and made a beeline for the front door.

My entrance to Mrs. Figg’s house occurred with little fanfare. Several of the cats napping on the worn leather sofa lifted their sleepy heads in my direction, but upon recognizing me, laid them back down.

I took a deep breath that smelled faintly of cat litter, and allowed the hush of the house to surround me in its drowsy comfort.

It was surreal. 

The house was exactly the same as I remembered it, from the haphazard pile of photo albums that served as a makeshift end table, to the two mismatched armchairs in the living room. The only thing that was different was the slight chill in the air – It was as if the building somehow already knew it’s occupant had just died. As if her departure was already affecting the world.

Maybe it was.

Mrs. Figg and I were never extremely close, but… I KNEW her. The Dursleys would often ask Mrs. Figg to watch me whenever they went on vacation and didn’t want to bring me along. And while I’d never exactly _liked_ staying here, Mrs. Figg was nice, and would even give me treats from time to time. 

In a way, Mrs. Figg was the closest thing that I’d ever had to a grandmother. 

And now she was dead. 

Killed by Voldemort.

A few tears escaped my already swollen and streaked eyes – it wasn’t even a conscious decision. Just an awareness, an acknowledgment, that a good woman had died today, and an odd sort-of regret for all the things I had never said to her, and all the things she had never said to me. 

I wanted to be angry at her, for never telling me about her connection to the wizarding world. But it somehow seemed wrong to blame her for it. She had said that she kept an eye on me at Dumbledore’s behest. 

But why? 

Why assign someone to watch over me, and then insist that they hide the existence of magic? 

Dumbledore had long ago explained that I was kept ignorant of the Wizarding World to prevent my fame from going to my head, but this just seemed unnecessary. Cruel, even. Because Mrs. Figg could’ve told me about magic during any one of the times I stayed here at her house. She wouldn’t have had to say anything about Voldemort or my fame for defeating him when I was a baby – I would’ve just been happy knowing that I wasn’t a freak for being able to do strange things. I would’ve been happy knowing that I wasn’t all alone in the world.

And so once again it begged the question – why had Dumbledore insisted on keeping me so completely in the dark?

I thought about it, but there wasn’t an easy answer. So it was with great consternation that I decided to stop mucking about and just get things over with. I couldn’t linger in the house of a dead woman when there was so much between us that had never been answered, and now, never would.

And besides, I didn’t belong here.

Not anymore.

I walked towards the fireplace and spotted a conspicuous pewter teapot sitting on the mantle. Sure enough, I opened it up and saw that it was filled with floo powder. I grabbed a pinch and tossed it into the fireplace, sending up a column of crackling green flames.

“The Burrow!” I stated firmly, stepping into the flames with my elbows tucked in tight.

And then I was gone, spinning around and around, brief flashes of fireplaces whizzing by me faster than I could see. Suddenly, the spinning slowed down, and I was violently ejected out of the fireplace and into the Weasley’s living room. 

I picked myself up and wiped the soot off of my glasses. The first thing I noticed was that the Burrow was dark and cold, which could only mean that the house was empty.

Still, I decided to call out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”

I was greeted with silence.

I looked up at the clock on the mantle and saw that six of the Weasley’s markers were firmly situated on “Lost.” Charlie’s and Bills markers were locked on “Travelling,” and Percy’s was pointing towards “Work.”

_So… What was I supposed to do now?_

I slumped onto the couch as a sudden wave of lethargy bowled me over. Everything felt washed out – like all of the emotions that I should have been feeling were simply vague memories buzzing around in my subconscious. 

I was safe, at least. And my headache had gone away. 

But everything else felt cold and hollow.

The fireplace was empty, the green flames of the floo having already died out. I absently waved my wand to ignite it, and out poured an overwhelming whoosh of flames that looked disconcertingly like writhing snakes. With another wave I quickly extinguished it altogether. 

I had seen enough flaming snakes to last me a lifetime. 

Instead, I grabbed a thick knitted quilt that was hanging on the back of the couch and cocooned myself inside of it. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to feel? I didn’t know how to react to everything I had just gone through. I was sad, of course. And angry. And afraid. But laying here now, wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak and one of Molly Weasley’s quilts, it was easy to pretend that nothing else existed.

I would forget about it, I decided. Just for tonight. I would sleep, and worry about everything else tomorrow. 

And so, with my chest still achingly cold, I slowly drifted off into an uneasy slumber, my last waking thoughts of Privet Drive burning to dancing flames.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave kudos for Chapter 1! Here's Chapter 2, hope you enjoy :)

I jolted awake as the fireplace roared with green flames.

_What?_

My head peaked out above the quilt and watched as the fireplace spat out the disheveled form of Arthur Weasley.

“Harry!” he exclaimed, rushing forward and gripping me in a tight hug as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Thank goodness you’re safe! We were all so worried about you! Sirius has practically worn a path into the floor with all his pacing. It was his idea that we look for you here.”

Mr. Weasley pulled away and grimaced as he noticed the state of me beneath the quilt and half-undone Cloak. I was still wearing the same clothes as last night, and somehow I doubted that the rest of me looked any better.

“You’ll send Molly into conniptions looking like that. But ahh well, no matter, no matter. We have lots to talk about, but not here. First we need to get you back to Headquarters. Go on and put your hood up, might as well keep you invisible, it’ll be safer that way. Good, good, I can’t see you at all! Now grab hold Harry. This might be a bit of a squeeze.”

He held out his hand and I warily clasped it, still confused about what exactly was going on. “What did you mean by squee---?”

With a gut-wrenching pull, my body was suddenly being stretched along a long rubber tube. It felt like I was being torn into two places at once, until with a giant lurch my body recoagulated with an ear-popping **Crack!**

I blearily looked around. We had Apparated onto a sidewalk in a rather rundown area of London. The cracked pavement was littered with old newspapers and soda cans, and the two lamp posts that were still working cast faint lights in the early morning darkness. Across the road were a row of grey brick townhouses that might’ve once been nice, but now stood crumbling with bars on their windows. Curiously, Number 11 ran smoothly into Number 13, with no Number 12 in between.

“Mr. Weasley, where are we? What’s going on?” I asked once my stomach settled down. It was an unusually chilly morning, and the Invisibility Cloak offered little in the way of warmth. I found myself missing the quilt from last night.

“Not now, wait until we get inside. Here, read this,” he instructed, thrusting a small piece of tightly rolled parchment in my general direction. 

I grabbed it and read, **The location of the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.**

I looked up, confused, until I saw a building suddenly materialize between Number 11 and Number 13, where before there hadn’t been anything.

“Fidelius charm,” Mr. Weasley explained briefly, taking the piece of paper as I handed it back. “It doesn’t exist until you know the Secret. Now quickly, let’s get inside.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue or ask questions, and Mr. Weasley seemed unusually on-edge, so I silently followed behind him as he walked up the steps and onto the front stoop. He knocked three times, and on the third knock, the door swung open on its own accord. Or at least what I thought was its own accord, until I stepped through and saw a decrepit old house elf closing the door behind us. I lowered my hood and opened my Cloak, and the elf scowled at my sudden appearance.

“More blood traitors and mudbloods polluting the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black,” the elf muttered under his breath. “Oh what would my Mistress say?” 

Ancient and Most Noble House of Black? The note said this was some sort of headquarters. Was this Sirius’s house?

It certainly had the look of an abandoned pureblood house that had seen better days. The ornate silver candelabras were covered by a thick layer of dust, the green fleur-de-lis wallpaper was pealing, and the Persian carpet at the entrance might’ve once been thick and luxurious, but was now threadbare and riddled with holes. 

“Come now Kreacher, that’s no way to great someone!” Mr. Weasley reproached.

“Dirty Muggle-lover, he speaks but I cannot hear him. Filthy blood traitors…” 

Mr. Weasley frowned and shook his head, as if deciding it wasn’t worth it. I was grateful he let it drop, because while I was glad to have a moment to take the place in, I had no interest in being held up in the entrance. 

Mr. Weasley put a finger over his lips in the universal signal to be quiet as we passed by a wall with thick black curtains and wordlessly continued down the poorly lit hall. Our footsteps were hushed by the general chill of darkness and antiquity within the house. 

That was, of course, until we walked into the brightly lit dining room where a veritable crowd of people were gathered in wait.

“HARRY!” I heard several people exclaim before I was engulfed by a tangled mass of bushy brown hair. 

“Hermione! My lungs!” I choked out as she hugged me more fiercely than my bruised body could handle. 

She pulled back, tears streaming from her doleful brown eyes. “Oh Harry, I was so worried about you! Are you okay?”

I looked behind her and saw Ron giving me a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that mate. We could barely calm her down once we heard about what happened. She even tried to bully Tonks into Apparating us to Privet Drive!”

My initial joy at seeing them evaporated at the mention of Privet Drive. What had they been told? Since they were both here together in the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort effort – The Order if the Phoenix, as it was apparently named – it made sense that they would be privy to certain information. After all, they had been here planning and helping, while I had been a literal sitting duck at the Dursleys.

It bothered me more than I was willing to let on.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to mimic Ron’s grin, but the muscles in my mouth just wouldn’t work properly. “It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. But who’s Tonks?”

“Wotcher, Harry!” called out a young woman with vivid purple hair sitting down at the table next to Ginny, who looked too tired to do much more than smile and wave. And sitting at the head of the table was… 

I carefully dodged around Hermione and walked over towards my godfather. Even though Hermione and Ron seemed happy enough to see me, I wasn’t ready to forgive them for keeping me in the dark. And considering the ordeal I just went through, it wasn’t really something I wanted to deal with right now. 

But Sirius? I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to see more.

“Harry,” he greeted sadly, standing up and appraising my tormented eyes. “I knew you’d go to the Weasley’s. I always went to the Potter house when I was in a tight spot. I’m glad your safe.”

He clasped my shoulders bracingly, and I felt a fierce surge of affection towards him for being the only one to see that this wasn’t some sort of happy homecoming. He had spent enough years on the run to know exactly what I was going through.

“It’s good to see you Sirius.”

“It’s good to see you too kiddo,” he smiled grimly. “I just wish it was under better circumstances. Now I’m sure you have questions, so how about we talk while I show you to your room upstairs?”

I nodded in earnest agreement. He was the first person to offer me answers – and more importantly, an escape route. I didn’t want to stand around with everyone’s eyes on me. It was suffocating.

But then, as if summoned, came Molly Weasley puttering out of a side door that must lead to the kitchen. 

“I just put the bacon in, but lord knows how long it’ll take in that ancient old oven. Any news on where he might…? HARRY!” she cried upon noticing me. She rushed forward and smothered me in a hug that was just a fierce and equally as painful as Hermione’s.

“It’s okay Mrs. Weasley,” I said even as my torso screamed in pain. “I’m okay.”

“Oh dear, I’m just so happy you’re safe!” she gushed. “But look at you! You must be famished. Go ahead and take a seat and I’ll bring you a cup of hot soup. You can tell us all about what happened after you eat. Oh, and your clothes!”

She waved her wand and cast a cleaning charm that removed all of the blood, but didn’t make the slightest dent on where I had been splattered with Dementor guts. 

“Well that’s strange,” she said, her hands scrubbing at the thick black stains that had long since dried. I couldn’t suppress my wince as her hand pushed against a spot on my ribs where Dudley had kicked me. And then I thought about Dudley, which brought on a different sort of pain.

“Thanks Mrs. Weasley, but I was actually just about to-”

“I was just about to show him his room,” Sirius cut in smoothly, his eyebrow raised in the faintest hint of a challenge. “I figured he might want to wash up before he eats.”

Mrs. Weasley gave Sirius a hard look, but then softened once she glanced back towards me. “Is that what you’d prefer, dear?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well then alright. Just be careful, okay?” she fretted.

“Be careful of what?” I asked bemusedly. “The floor mats?”

“Don’t be silly, of course I don’t mean the floor mats! It’s just… most of us were up all night worrying about you. We didn’t know if the Ministry had you, or You-Know-Who, or if you were even still alive-...!” Mrs. Weasley stuttered, suddenly bursting into hysterical sobs.

Despite her clearly genuine affection, I wasn’t in the right state of mind to be able to offer her the amount of comfort she needed. It was hard enough to hold myself together and pretend to be okay.

“It’s okay Molly,” Mr. Weasley said, coming forward to save me from his wife. “It’s okay. Harrys okay, and we’re all here, and everyone’s safe.”

He was still speaking soothing things into her ear when Sirius lightly took hold of my arm and led me from the kitchen. As soon as we were in the hallway I gave a huge sigh of relief.

“That bad, huh?” 

“Worse,” I confirmed.

Sirius gave a low whistle as we started down the hall. We walked in companionable silence for a few moments, until he finally asked, “So, what exactly do you want to know? I’m sure you must have a ton of questions.”

“I dunno,” I said, my mind whirling with all the new information I’d learned in the last few minutes. “I hardly know where to start. What exactly is the Order of the Phoenix?”

“It’s a secret organization dedicated to defeating Voldemort,” Sirius explained. “Dumbledore founded it during the first war. It was disbanded after Voldemort was defeated, but Dumbledore brought it back now that Voldemort has returned. We haven’t done much. At least, not yet. Voldemort’s been quiet, and we’ve have to hide our operations from the Ministry. Fudge is paranoid, you see. He thinks Dumbledore is raising a guerilla army to seize control of the Ministry. So we’ve mostly just been recruiting and trying to get this place in working order.”

“But this is your place, right?”

“Right you are! This is where I grew up. Lovely people, my family,” he said, gesturing to the row of House-Elf heads mounted on the wall as we walked up the stairs. “This is the Black family safehouse. It’s where my family kept all of our nasty secrets hidden away from polite society. My crazy mother was the only Black in recent memory to actually make her family _live_ here. I never thought I’d step foot in this place again, but Dumbledore needed a headquarters, and I needed somewhere to lay low. This house has enough wards that nobody outside of the Black family even knows of its existence, and it has more than enough enchantments to keep out anyone who tries to enter, often at the risk of serious bodily harm. Add on top of that a rather nifty Fidelius cast by Dumbledore himself, and we’ve got ourselves the safest place in all of London. By all rights it doesn’t even exist.”

“If it’s so bloody safe,” I fumed, “Then why was I forced to stay at the Dursleys?”

Sirius’s eyes darkened, giving him such a sinister appearance that I could understand how people might’ve assumed he was mass murderer. It wiped away all traces of his good humor, and emphasized the gaunt, haunted look that he had acquired in Azkaban.

“That’s a good question Harry,” he said darkly. “One I’d like to know the answer to myself.”

There was a pregnant pause as I considered the implications. Clearly, Sirius had not agreed with Dumbledore’s decision to send me back to Privet Drive. Oddly, this knowledge didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it made me feel worse. Because if Dumbledore had been wrong, it meant that Dumbledore was human and could make mistakes just like anyone else. It meant that the world was a far more vicious and uncertain place. 

And I didn’t want to admit it. 

But with the image of Privet Drive burning behind my eyelids, I could no longer afford such denial. 

And I didn’t like hearing Sirius confirm it, because it changed _everything._

“This is my room,” Sirius suddenly announced, cutting through the solemn mood and motioning towards a door with a scantily clad woman in a Union Jack bikini. “Your room is right next to mine. It used to be my brother Regulus’s, so I’m sorry about the décor.”

The door swung open, revealing a dusty room done completely in green, silver, and dark black wood, with a giant Slytherin flag dominating the left wall.

“I would’ve torn it down, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch anything,” Sirius said apologetically. “Fanatical Dark-Arts-loving git that he was, he was still my brother.”

I nodded in understanding. I knew exactly how it felt to lose a family member who you weren’t all that close with. 

“Anyway,” Sirius continued, clearing his throat. “This is your room now, so you can do whatever you want with it.”

“Thanks,” I told him, my throat thickening with emotion. “I mean it, this is really great. To be honest, it’s almost too much.”

“Well you were going to be sharing a room with Ron, but I thought you’d appreciate some space. But if you’d rather room with him…?”

“No,” I assured him quickly. “This is perfect. We’re finally getting to live together. Like a real family.”

Sirius swallowed hard, looking uncertain, before finally pulling me into an intense hug.

Like Hermione and Molly, his grasp was too strong, and I winced as his arms crushed against my back. 

Unlike Hermione and Molly, he actually noticed.

“Sweet Merlin, you’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” I said reflexively.

“Bullshit! I know broken ribs when I see them. How did it happen?” 

“I got into a fight,” I explained with morbid humor. “You should see the other guy.”

Sirius frowned even as he nodded in acceptance. “Merlin, what a mess. Well c’mon then, let’s get you to the bathroom. I might not be Madam Pomfrey, but I know how to heal bruises and broken ribs. Prongs and I got plenty of them whenever we went wrestling with Moony.”

He lead me through Regulus’s room and into the attached bathroom, which I saw we would be sharing. It was simple, everything done in white porcelain, with the only nods to decoration being the twisted snake faucets for both the bath and the sink. 

I stripped off my Cloak, folding it up and placing it gently on the counter, before lifting up my shirt. My reflection showed my utter shock as I finally looked at myself in the mirror. My torso was a collection of red and purple welts, and my eyes were so bloodshot that I looked like I hadn’t slept for weeks.

Sirius whistled again, and then got to work. He waved his wand around in complex patterns, muttering some spell or another under his breath. With each jab I felt marginally better, until with a final flourish it was done, and my chest looked mostly unblemished. A few places were still red, but overall it was some excellent work, and I thanked him for it.

“Oh shut up,” he rebuffed. “What sort of godfather would I be if I couldn’t even heal my own godson? Anyway, I’ll go ahead and head downstairs while you wash up. I’ll hold off Molly for as long as I can, but I won’t be able to stall her forever. So take your time, but don’t stay up here too long. And I hope this goes without saying, but feel free to help yourself to anything you need. This is your home now. And despite everything that’s happened, I’m glad you’re here.”

With a final pat on my shoulders, he turned around and left me to my own devices. 

Once he was gone, I took a deep breath, and set about on drawing myself a bath, mostly on autopilot. I hopped in quicker than I should have, evidenced by the steam still floating above the surface, but I nearly moaned in delight as the hot water swirled around my skin.

I sat there, my mind gloriously empty, basking like a cat as I soaked up the hot steam. It was only when my fingers turned into prunes and the water dulled to an unsatisfying warmth that I finally got to work washing myself. I grabbed a random bar of soap sitting on the stand and started scrubbing. The water gradually turned into a dull muddy brown as all the blood and soot scraped off my skin. 

I clambered out of the bath once I was done, and my skin burst into goosebumps as it met with the frigid air. Through sheer determination – and the threat of Molly Weasley bursting in on me – I walked away from the bath and wrapped myself in a towel before continuing to Regulus’s room. Or I guess I should say, my room. I looked around for my trunk so I could find something to wear, until I sadly remembered that my trunk was gone. It had been burned to a crisp, along with the photo album and Marauders Map that had been inside it. The photo album had held the only pictures I owned of my parents – pictures that I wasn’t sure existed anywhere else. And the Marauders Map was truly one-of-a-kind, a legacy of my father’s time at Hogwarts.

I literally had nothing left. I supposed that barring the irreplaceable things, I could always buy new stuff. But in the meantime, what was I supposed to wear? 

The answer, of course, was right in front of me. Sirius hadn’t touched any of Regulus’s old things, so his dresser was sure to have at least a couple of things I could wear. And Sirius had said to help myself to anything I needed. So, trying to ignore the fact that I’d be wearing a dead man’s clothes, I opened up a few drawers and rummaged around. I was too squeamish to use his underwear, but I found a rather plain green sweater and some black slacks and promptly shoved them on. They smelled a little musty but fit me decently well, and there was even a useful pocket in the sweater to stash my wand.

Finally washed and dressed, I allowed myself one moment. Just a moment. 

_Was I okay?_

I wasn’t, of course. But at that moment, things felt strangely normal. Normal enough that I was ready to pretend that things were okay, if only because the other option was to completely lose my fucking mind.

I sighed again, gazing at myself in Regulus’s silver filigree mirror. My eyes were still sunken, but at least I didn’t look like complete hell. I made a token effort to comb my fingers through my hair, but quickly gave it up as a bad job. 

Time to face the music. 

I walked out of the room and made my way downstairs. Even dressed as I was, I still felt a nagging chill. I wondered if the Blacks had been masochistic enough to curse their house to be permanently cold. It seemed like something they might do, maybe as a way to hammer home that dark and foreboding atmosphere that Slytherins seemed to love so much.

Ignoring the coldness, I followed the smell of bacon and eggs back to the dining room, my stomach grumbling at the mouth-watering aroma. Sirius and Molly were both inside engaged in what looked to be a heated discussion. Eating at the table were Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the woman named Tonks, who now had pink hair. But then, lingering near the back of the room, his natural eye fixed firmly on me while his electric blue one whizzed around in its socket, was none other than Mad-Eye Moody.

_Death Eater!_

My wand was in my hand sending a stunning spell across the room faster than I could blink. Mad-Eye stepped out of the way with surprising agility, and promptly drew his own wand. He made no move to curse me, but instead sized me up with both his eyes as I glared heatedly back.

My spell had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, and a tense silence overtook the previous chatter as everyone stared at us in shock.

Silence, until Mad-Eye let out a barking laugh, making everyone jump in surprise. 

“You’ve got decent reflexes, kid,” he commended gruffly, “And I’m damned-near impressed that you already know how to cast nonverbal spells. But you’re shit at situational awareness. It took you too long to spot me, and in the real world, a few seconds can mean the difference between life and death. If I wanted you dead, I could’ve killed you the moment you walked through the door. Constant vigilance!” 

I frowned as I processed his words. I hadn’t even realized that I had used a nonverbal spell. But now that I thought about it, I realized that I had somehow been using nonverbal spells since yesterday. Burning up the Ministry letter, all those wandless blasting curses… I couldn’t decide which was more concerning – the fact that I had used nonverbal magic, or the fact that I hadn’t even noticed. Most of it had been pure instinct.

And in this case, my instincts had been wrong. It was Barty Crouch Jr., not Mad-Eye Moody, who was a Death Eater and had betrayed me last year. And this man couldn’t be Barty Crouch Jr., because Barty Crouch Jr. was dead. His soul had been sucked out by Dementors. 

My mind suddenly flooded with images of empty eyes and glassy stares, and I shook my head to get rid of them.

“Sorry about that Professor,” I muttered apologetically, putting away my wand. “I thought… well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Sorry.”

Mad-Eye nodded and put his wand away as well. “Well I can’t say it’s the first time someone has tried to curse me on sight. At least you had a decent reason. But enough of that ‘Professor’ crap, I haven’t taught a day of my life. The name’s Alastor, and it’s good to finally meet you.”

He hobbled forward, his wooden leg clunking on the ground as I met him halfway to shake his hand. His grip was firm, but not crushing, and I held his mismatched gaze as he continued to stare.

“Harry Potter,” I introduced. “And as long as you don’t try to kill me, we’ll get along just fine.”

Alastor barked out another laugh, his electric blue eye swiveling to look at Sirius. “I think I like this kid.”

Sirius snickered in agreement, breaking whatever tension that was still lingering in the room. Molly Weasley stood and walked towards me as Mad-Eye shuffled his way over and sat down as far away from everyone else as the table would allow.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley tutted, her hands resting on her hips. “You can’t use spells during the summer! Good gracious, you should know that already, considering the trouble you’re in!”

I shrugged non-committally. “Sorry. It was just a reflex.”

“Very well,” she harrumphed, “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t you dare try it again, or I’ll have to lock away your wand!”

I glared at her with sudden fury for even daring to voice such a thing.

“Mum, for Merlin’s sake! Let him sit down and eat something before you start in on him!” Ginny spoke up. I glanced towards her and sent her a small, appreciative smile.

“Oh heavens, of course! I’m sorry dear, what was I thinking? You’ve been through so much,” Molly fretted, exasperation turning into concern once more. She almost looked nervous, as if unsure of how to deal with me. “Go on and sit down, I’ve already set you up a plate.”

I looked and saw that she had indeed set me up a plate piled high with bacon, sausages, toast, eggs, and sliced tomatoes. It was far more than I could ever hope to eat, and more discouragingly, Ron and Hermione sat on either side. 

Ignoring the indicated plate, I stomped over to the other end of the table and sat down between Tonks and Sirius. Sirius, bless him, wordlessly slid me his more modestly full plate and then leaned over Hermione to grab my overloaded one for himself. 

Ron and Hermione looked upset, and Molly Weasley looked downright scandalized, but I kept my eyes on my plate and began to eat in stubborn silence.

“So,” Tonks coughed awkwardly. “Nonverbal spells, huh? Did you learn how to cast them during the Triwizard Tournament?” 

I could tell that she was trying for small talk. As the person I knew the least, she had a justifiable reason for getting to know me, and was exempt from whatever tension there was between me and my friends. 

Unfortunately, she had brought up my apparently newfound skill for nonverbal magic, which I really had no idea how to explain. It was yet another problem I’d have to deal with. But for now, her explanation was as good as any.

“Yeah,” I lied, offering her a half-smile. “It really helped give me an edge against the others.”

“Wait, when did you learn how to cast them? Why keep it a secret?” Hermione cut in. She looked at Ron, who shrugged, confirming he also had no idea what I was talking about.

“Oh, so now I’m the one keeping secrets?” I scowled. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

I took a vicious bite out of my toast, chewing the bread a little more forcefully than necessary. 

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Ron demanded. “Hermione’s never kept any secrets from us! Well, except for third year,” he amended, doubtlessly remembering the time turner.

“Not just her, the both of you!” I snapped after swallowing the toast. “How many letters did you send this summer? Two? And how much did you tell me about what was going on?”

“We couldn’t tell you anything!” Hermione protested. “We weren’t allowed. It could’ve been intercepted. Dumbledore told us-“

“Ah yes, Dumbledore told you,” I interrupted. “How interesting, that a man who can send a Phoenix instantaneously to any location couldn’t somehow arrange to send me a letter. Or, I don’t know, send someone to Apparate and give me an update. Or floo!” I added, remembering Mrs. Figg with a pang of sadness.

“We… we didn’t think to ask,” Hermione admitted, sounding a little less sure of herself. “He’s been very busy…”

“Busy,” I snorted. “Right.”

I started attacking my eggs, spearing them savagely with my fork as I shoveled them into my mouth.

“Harry, I’m not sure I like your tone,” chided Mrs. Weasley. “You don’t have any idea how hectic things have been. It’s not fair of you to expect – “

“NOT FAIR?” I exploded, standing up from my seat. Everyone jolted back, and a few even looked at me with something akin to fear. “I’ll tell you what’s not _fair._ What’s not fair is that I watched Voldemort get reborn, that I was tortured and escaped and warned _everyone_ about what had happened, only to be dropped off at the Dursleys and kept in the dark the entire summer! Oh, _Ron and Hermione_ were brought into the fold. But not me. Even though I knew he was back, and _knew_ that he was out there hunting for me, all I could do was wait. And wait. And hope that someone would eventually bother to tell me what was going on. But no! I was left to rot at Privet Drive until it literally _burned down!_ And now you want me to pretend like everything is just peachy? Well fuck that!”

By this point I was heaving with anger, and everyone else was stunned speechless. 

I growled, but it came out more like a choked sob. 

I couldn’t stay here and break down. 

Not now.

I whirled around and stalked out of the room, blowing past a crying Molly Weasley and nearly bowling over Fred and George, who were heading into the dining room for breakfast.

“What’s this I see, oh brother of mine?”

“Why brother, it looks like the little lad Harold is a wee bit upset!”

“Perhaps we should-“

“Perhaps you should sod off!” I snarled, pushing my way through them and into the hall.

“Oh ho! Best watch out Fred, it looks like Potter is being a real piss-pot!”

“He better watch what he eats tomorrow!” Fred called to my retreating back, half in jest, half in warning.

I ignored them, not in the mood for their antics while I was this upset. I was so angry that I didn’t pay any attention to where I was going as I stomped my way through the cold and dusty halls. Eventually I picked out a random door and kicked it open, sending a small pack of Doxy’s scurrying for cover behind the curtains opposite the door.

The windows were covered by faintly buzzing curtains that blocked out whatever sunlight might be behind them, so I wordlessly gestured towards the fireplace and ignited it. It was only once I saw the fire crackling merrily in the grate that I gazed at my hand in horror. Not only had I just cast a nonverbal spell, but I had cast it _wandlessly_ as well. The likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort could cast nonverbal wandless spells, but that was only because they were immensely powerful and had decades of experience. For me to do it was – should have been – impossible. It was like a toddler who had just learned how to dog-paddle suddenly swimming the English Channel. 

And yet the fire was there, burning in the grate, an indisputable testament to what had just happened. 

I had latched onto Tonks’ explanation because it had seemed convenient at the time. But it was wrong. Everything was _wrong._ I wasn’t supposed to lie to my friends because I was too scared to admit something weird was happening to me. I wasn’t supposed to yell at Molly Weasley. I wasn’t supposed to…

_I wasn’t supposed to be alive._

I slumped into a red velveteen chair in front of the fire, sending up a plume of dust. 

Voldemort had been right. I was a coward. Instead of facing him like I was supposed to, instead of sacrificing myself to save my family, I had hid and watched as he murdered them one by one. I had been too weak to protect them. And now I was lashing out at the only people who actually cared about me because I was too fucking emotional to think straight. There was a crushing pressure in my stomach, in my throat, and I felt dangerously close to bursting into tears. Everything I knew was crumbling apart.

But no. I couldn’t do this. Not now. I had to keep it together. I needed to get out of my head.

I needed a distraction.

I blinked rapidly to shove down whatever tears had bubbled up, and a quick glance around revealed that there were a handful of unusual things about the room I was in. A giant woven tapestry dominated the left wall, stretching from the ceiling all the way down to the floor. At the very top were the words ‘Toujours Pur’ written in black spidery letters. On the right wall was a fireplace that was flanked by two wooden shelves filled with sinister-looking knick knacks. They were the sort of things one would find in Borgin and Burkes – a snuffbox inlaid with emeralds, a knife coated in rusty flecks of what looked suspiciously like blood, a handheld mirror that was conspicuously dust-free, a bleached white wand set on ragged purple pillow, a silver locket engraved with an elegant spiraling S – I paused at the last item, feeling a strange hush of comfort and familiarity. I almost got the sense that it was waiting for me to remember it. And despite the fact that I had never seen the locket before, I felt overwhelmingly certain that it was _mine._

I reached forward to grab it when I was interrupted by a loud cough.

I spun around and saw that Sirius was standing in the doorway. My cheeks flushed in sudden embarrassment. Was I really just planning on taking something that I knew nothing about, and that by all rights belonged to my godfather?

“I wouldn’t touch any of that if I were you,” Sirius advised. “I told you, this is where the Black family stashed all of our dirty secrets. There are dark and dangerous things hiding all over this house, and this is one of the rooms that hasn’t been cleared out yet. I actually think Molly is going to get started on it tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, cleared out?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. It’s all getting thrown away.”

“But!” I objected, a flash of anger surging and receding almost as quickly as it came. I floundered, trying to come up with an excuse for not throwing out these things other than an immediate and base instinct that it was _wrong._ “But why not sell it?” I invented. “Some of this stuff looks ancient – it’s got to be worth something. And we could use the money to help with the war effort.”

“Harry,” Sirius frowned, “This stuff is illegal to even own, much less sell. And we’re fighting this war to destroy the sort of thinking that these artifacts represent. They’re relics of a time when purebloods dominated every aspect of society and Muggleborns were considered little better than servants. It’s better to get rid of it all and be done with it.”

“I thought we were fighting the war to destroy Voldemort,” I countered. “Surely it couldn’t hurt to keep– “

“I want it all _gone!”_

I suddenly realized that this had absolutely nothing to do with Voldemort or the war, and absolutely everything to do with Sirius and his issues with his family.

“Your family is _gone,_ ” I said, perhaps not as delicately as I could have. “And they only have as much influence as you allow them to have.”

“Gone, eh? Don’t tell me you missed the giant family tapestry?”

He walked us over to the tapestry, and as we got closer I began to see the tiny lines and letters showing it to be an absolutely massive family tree branching from the words Toujours Pur down to about three quarters of the way to the ground.

“The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black!” Sirius announced with faux-pride. “All purebloods since the age of Merlin, with the family tree to prove it. I learned rather quickly that this dumb old tapestry was worth more to my parents than I was. My mom blasted me off the tapestry when I ran away to live with the Potters. You see, I brought _shame_ to the family for running off to live with a bunch of Muggle-lovers instead of joining up with Voldemort to fight for the noble cause of pureblood supremacy.”

His eyes clouded as he absently traced a black mark next to **Regulus Arcturus Black.**

“Wait a second… why am I on there?” I questioned, spotting my name relatively close to the burn mark. **Harry James Potter** was right at the bottom, connected with two lines to **James Charlus Potter** and **Lily Evans.** There was nothing above my mom, but above my dad were another two lines, one leading to **Charlus Gregory Potter** and the other to **Dorea Ursa Black.**

“Nobody ever told you that your grandmother was a Black?” 

“Nobody ever tells me anything,” I sighed.

“Well then you might be surprised to know that you have quite a few relatives, myself included,” Sirius informed. “If you want I can tell you some quick family history?” 

He did his best to sound enthused, even though I knew that this wasn’t exactly an easy subject for him. But I was too desperate for a distraction to turn down his offer, and so nodded my agreement. “Of course. But are you sure you want to talk about it?”

“Well I do have a secret motive,” he admitted dryly. “I’m hoping that it’ll be boring enough to calm you down from what happened at breakfast.”

“Don’t worry, I already feel like an arse about it. But still, I’d appreciate the distraction.”

“Alright then,” Sirius grinned. “I’ll try not to be as boring as Professor Binns, but be warned – this is some pretty dry stuff.”

“I promise not to fall asleep.”

My face must’ve shown my eagerness, because Sirius cleared his throat and began without further preamble. “So, erm, family history… I guess the best place to start would be your grandmother, Dorea Black, and her brother Pollux. Pollux was betrothed to Irma Crabbe while he was still in diapers. It sounds ridiculous now, but that was the way things were done back when marriage contracts were brokered between pureblooded families. But, big surprise, Pollux was absolutely miserable with the match. Irma was as stupid as a troll, and even though she was the prettiest Crabbe in at least seven generations, rumor has it that Pollux was more inclined towards those of a more _masculine_ persuasion,” Sirius winked. “Still, somehow they managed to have three kids – my mom Walburga, my Uncle Cygnus, and my good ol’ Uncle Alfred. But while Pollux was marrying Irma Crabbe and having children, his sister Dorea was just starting school. She was betrothed through a marriage contract to Septimus Weasley.”

“You’re kidding!” I interrupted. “My grandma was supposed to marry a Weasley?”

“Is it really so surprising? The Weasleys are all purebloods. They’ve married into a lot of pureblood families. But alas, Dorea’s engagement to Septimus didn’t go quite as planned. He was five years younger than her, and when Dorea graduated from Hogwarts, she was none too thrilled about having to marry her second-year fiancé. And how could she be, when she had drawn the attention of the handsome Charlus Potter? The two had a torrid and secret love affair while she ostensibly waited for Septimus to graduate.”

“Wait,” I interrupted again. “My grandmother cheated on Septimus Weasley? With my grandfather?”

“Yeah, but the great part is, nobody ever found out about her and Charlus!” Sirius chuckled. “In fact quite the opposite. There was a huge scandal when Septimus was caught with Dorea’s cousin, Cedrella Black, in a Hogwarts broom closet. It very nearly tore the family apart, and it got Cedrella blasted off the tree. But nobody ever once thought to question the virtue of dear sweet Dorea,” Sirius grinned, his eyes glinting with remembrance. “Well after enough time had gone by for the scandal to blow over, Charlus formally asked for permission to court Dorea. And even though the Potters had always been outspoken critics against pureblood supremacy, Charlus was still a pureblood from a well-respected line, and most of the other eligible purebloods were already betrothed, and so her father ultimately said yes. They married each other the very next year and had one son – your father, James Potter.”

“So my father was half Potter, half Black?”

“Usually it’s only the male line that matters,” Sirius explained. “But yes, he had just as much Black blood as anyone born from a male heir. And since Dorea and Pollux were brother and sister, that made your dad first cousins with Cygnus, Alfred, and my mom Walburga, even though they were all much older than he was. Ironically, that’s why my mom let me spend so much time at the Potter house in the first place.”

“Until you ran away,” I remembered.

“Until I ran away,” Sirius agreed. “But I wasn’t the first to pull a runner. Alfred is this scorch mark right here. Alfred was, if you’ll pardon the pun, the Black sheep of the family. We were always quite close, since neither of us bought into our family’s pureblooded ideals. He took off right after Hogwarts to travel around the world and explore ancient ruins, even though he had a marriage contract with then-four year old Druella Rosier. He was almost blasted off the tree for it, but the Rosiers were satisfied when they were offered his younger brother Cygnus instead, so his ‘indiscretion’ was forgiven. What finally got him blasted off was when he died without any heirs and left me all his money. I was already disowned at the time, and since Alfred was the firstborn heir of a secondary line, he had a vast sum of gold that my mother was furious to see go to her ingrate son.”

“So I guess I have Uncle Alfred to thank for the Firebolt? Which, erm, is gone by the way,” I sadly informed him.

“Technically he’s your first cousin once removed. But yes. And as much as I want to know about what happened to your Firebolt, if I don’t tell you the rest of the story then I probably never will. Some of this stuff is hard for me to say – the next part especially.”

“You don’t have to keep going,” I told him. “Really, you already told me about my grandmother. If you’d rather not – ”

“It’s no problem,” Sirius assured me, even though his eyes said otherwise. “You deserve to know the rest. Starting with my mom Walburga. Oh, how I hated that woman. She sneered at anyone who couldn’t trace their bloodline back to the middle ages, and thought that Muggle hunting should be made into an official sport. She was obsessed with money and power, and when the main line of the Blacks only produced a single male heir, Orion Black, Walburga jumped on him like a viper. She seduced him using Polyjuice potion and somehow managed to get herself knocked up that very night. Once the rumors started spreading that she was pregnant, their parents had no choice but to marry them off together, even though Walburga and Orion were first cousins. It wasn’t necessarily unheard of, but things were just starting to become a bit more modern back then, and their union earned no small number of raised eyebrows from the pureblood elite. Later that year Walburga gave birth to me, a squealing baby with dashingly good looks, who had no idea that his mom had just used him as a bartering chip to ensure an advantageous and incestuous marriage. My brother Regulus was born a few years later.”

I did my best to keep my face stoic and not cringe at his retelling. Because sure, the Dursleys were bad, but they were only my Aunt and Uncle. And it was okay that they hated me, because I knew for a fact that my parents loved me more than anything.

Sirius’s parents had never even wanted him. And the pain he still felt was written all over his face.

“Sirius, it’s okay if you want to stop,” I offered. “Really, you don’t have to-“

“It’s fine,” Sirius said curtly. “Truly, that was the worst part. I might as well tell the rest.”

“Alright, if you’re sure…” I said uncertainly.

“I’m sure. The only person I haven’t covered yet is my Uncle Cygnus. And Uncle Cygnus was, in my humble opinion, the evilest piece of shit to ever walk the earth. Him and Walburga might’ve been soul mates if they hadn’t been born brother and sister. He was one of the very first people to throw his support behind Voldemort, which spurred a lot of the other pureblood families to do the same. He dutifully married Druella Rosier once he was of age, but to his dismay they only had daughters, usually referred to as the Black sisters – Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda.”

“Narcissa? You mean…”

“Yep. I’m first cousins with Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Andromeda Tonks. But you won’t see Andy on the tapestry. She ran off and married a Muggle, Ted Tonks. You met their daughter today at breakfast, but she just goes by Tonks.”

“So you’re first cousins with Andromeda, Narcissa, and Bellatrix,” I summarized, “Which makes me second cousins with all of them, including you.”

“Very good, I’m impressed you’ve managed to keep up.”

“It makes sense. Our parents were all first cousins, so we’re all second cousins. But it’s just so strange. I pretty much figured that I didn’t have any family, and now I’m learning that I’m second cousins with Malfoy’s _mom.”_

“Narcissa’s not that bad,” Sirius muttered begrudgingly. “She actually used to be a sweet girl when she was younger. But she was trapped under the yoke of Cygnus, who expected nothing less than absolute adherence to the pureblood way of life. Narcissa never had Andy’s bravery or Bellatrix’s cruelty – what other choice did she have besides obedience? Is it any wonder she turned out the way she did?”

“She could’ve made a different choice,” I insisted.

“I think we both know that things aren’t always that simple,” Sirius replied. He stared at the tapestry, his fingers running over the burn mark where his name was supposed to be. His eyes were filled with memories and unspoken regrets. 

“But anyway,” Sirius coughed, clearing his throat. “I think that’s enough family history for one day. I’m sorry nobody told you about your family before. I guess nobody thought you’d want to learn that you’re related to Bellatrix Lestrange – trust me, nobody in their right minds wants to be related to that deranged bint. But they weren’t all bad. Maybe another day I can tell you a bit more about Dorea and Charlus. Your grandparents were good people. Truthfully I envied James, although I always did my best to hide it. He had a perfect family, the kind I didn’t even know existed, and most of the time he took it for granted.”

I thought of my relationship with Ron and the Weasleys, and knew exactly what he meant.

“Thank you,” I told him. “And thank you for doing all this. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories. Family… family can be shitty sometimes. Just look at the Dursleys. Did you know that I never tasted chocolate until I was nine? I finally fetched one of Dudley’s half-eaten candy bars from the rubbish bin one day, and when my Uncle found out, he locked me in my cupboard for a week without supper. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Christmas! Every year I had to sit and watch Dudley open present after present filled with fabulous toys that I knew I could never have. Because I was too much of a freak to deserve new toys. One time I got an old coat hanger that they didn’t even bother to wrap, and I thanked them for it. Because it was the best present that I’d ever gotten.”

Sirius’s face crumpled as I told him about my life with the Dursleys, and I belatedly realized that sharing my family woes wasn’t the best way to make him feel better. He still blamed himself for trusting Wormtail, which ultimately caused the events that left me orphaned in the first place.

“I’m so sorry Harry. I should’ve been there for you, I should’ve –“

“It’s not your fault,” I stated firmly. “No more than it’s my fault that the Dursleys were tossers, or yours, that the Blacks were gits. I brought it up because even with all the horrible things they did to me, I always wanted them to love me. And now that they’re dead, they never will. They died hating me. And it hurts. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, I understand.”

Sirius looked at me, a little teary-eyed, and gave me a watery smile. “You look so very much like James. But truly Harry, you are your mother’s son.”

I felt my eyes prickle, and attributed it to the dust. 

“But Merlin, wait a moment. Did you just say that the Dursley’s were dead?” Sirius demanded, suddenly angry.

“Erm… yeah. I thought you knew?” I asked, a little taken aback by the aggressiveness of his tone.

“Fuck no! We thought that there was just a fire! We all know how awful the Dursleys can be – and nobody really blamed you, of course – but we just thought that you had a flare up of accidental magic that had gotten out of control. But Merlin Harry… you actually killed them?!”

“No!” I protested, aghast at his accusation. The events of today replayed themselves in my head, and with a sick sense of dread I realized why everything had seemed so _off._ The nervousness, the wariness, the fear… they thought that I was the one who had burned down Privet Drive.

“We’re going to have to do damage control,” Sirius muttered, ignoring me as he began pacing around the room. “Say it was self-defense. There are legal precedents…”

“Stop it! I didn’t kill anybody, and fuck you for thinking I did! It was _Voldemort!”_

“Voldemort…?” Sirius trailed off, freezing like a statue.

There were a few moments of tense silence.

“It was _armageddon,”_ I finally whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Everything was burning, even the bodies – especially the bodies. There was enough fat on Vernon that he melted like a candlestick.”

Sirius looked horrified, but I didn’t stop. Now that I was talking about it, I couldn’t stop. So I told him everything. From the very beginning. I told him about the playground and the Dementors and Dudley’s empty eyes. I told him how Vernon had tried to kill me and that Petunia’s hate had negated the protection charms. I told him how Voldemort had shown up, and about Mrs. Figg’s screams as he tortured her. I told him about Wormtail and Lucius and Petunia’s broken voice. I told him about the giant flaming snake and how it had burnt my trunk and Firebolt. I told him about Madame Bones and the Auror squad. I told him about my sudden ability to use nonverbal and wandless magic.

I told him so much and talked for so long that my voice was hoarse by the end of it.

“And now you know,” I said finally, staring into the fire. I had inched closer to the grate during my retelling, but no matter how close I got, I couldn’t seem to get any warmer. 

“Fuck…” Sirius whispered in stunned disbelief. “Are you fucking… Is all of that true?”

I gave him a look.

“Bloody fucking Merlin,” Sirius gasped. “Harry, you have to believe me, none of us had any idea! Kingsley hasn’t reported in yet, and Dumbledore hasn’t made contact... Mother of fuck Harry, how are you just sitting there?” Sirius exclaimed, suddenly worked up. “How can you just sit there after everything that has happened?!”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I asked wearily. 

“I don’t know – anything! Scream! Cry! Freak the fuck out, why don’t you?” Sirius said, his voice only a notch below screaming himself.

“I’m done with crying. It’s all over now, and freaking out won’t help anything. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“Nothing? I could’ve been there for you!” Sirius raged. “We knew that Voldemort was at large, we knew that he was after you, but we just _left_ you there! And when the Dementors came, when Voldemort came, where were we? The Order was here discussing how inconvenient it was that we had to handle your mess at the Ministry!” he laughed hysterically, pulling at his hair in distress. 

I flinched. I had not expected such blunt truth. 

“That… that hurts,” I admitted.

“Hurts? Harry, I don’t think you fully understand the scope of the injustice done to you,” Sirius said, resuming his furious pacing around the room. “Fudge wants to arrest you. You’re a _fugitive._ And some of the Order… fuck Harry, some people in the Order don’t think we should be harboring you. They believe what the Daily Prophet has been saying about you being a troubled teen who’s disturbed in the head.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “The Daily Prophet has been running smear articles about me?”

“Nothing so bold. Not until this morning. It’s more of a comment here, a quote there, a few lines snuck into editorial pieces… The Ministry doesn’t want to admit that Voldemort has returned, so they’re doing everything they can to discredit you. Haven’t you been reading the paper?”

“Sometimes,” I hedged, running a hand through my hair in agitation. In truth I hadn’t glanced past the first page in weeks. “What did it say this morning?”

“Nothing good. It said that an extreme amount of underage magic was performed at your residence, and that when Aurors were dispatched to investigate, they had to battle with a giant flaming snake. It didn’t say anything about there being a death toll, so I guess they’re trying to keep that part hushed up. But they used some old quotes from witnesses who saw you use Parseltongue in your second year, and the rest was pure conjecture.”

“And the Order believed that rubbish? You all thought that I’d sicced a fiery snake on the Dursleys?” I questioned accusatively.

“I’m sorry Harry,” Sirius said, to his credit apologizing immediately. “James would have… _you_ should be disgusted with me. Fuck, I of all people should know not to believe the Prophet. 

For a moment, I almost told him to piss off. 

But then I saw the pain in his eyes. The guilt. The self-loathing. And I realized that this wasn’t some random person blindly the Daily Prophet.

This was Sirius. 

“I forgive you,” I allowed, hunching in on myself. “But I can’t forgive them. Not yet.”

“Thank you,” Sirius breathed with relief. “And of course not. But let me go and talk to them. Let me explain what happened.”

“What if they don’t believe you? What if they think I lied to you?”

“Then they can get out of my house!” Sirius threatened.

I smiled grimly. “Thanks Sirius. But maybe try not to look so murderous when you tell them.”

“Don’t thank me,” Sirius growled. “I haven’t even begun to earn it. But alright, I’ll try to tone it down.”

He contorted his mouth into the world’s most unconvincing smile, and I couldn’t help but snort at his attempt.

“You see? I’ll be as charming as ever. But truly Harry, don’t worry. I’ll set the record straight.”

And with that, Sirius walked out into the hall. He put his wand to his neck and cast a quick _”Sonerus!”_

“EVERYONE MEET IN THE DINING ROOM FOR A BRIEFING! I REPEAT, EVERYONE MEET IN THE DINING ROOM FOR A BRIEFING!”

His voice was so loud it made my ears ring, but not quite as loud as the shrieking that started from down the hall. 

“FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS! SCUM! BEGONE FROM MY HOUSE! YOU BISMIRCH THE HOUSE OF BLACK!”

“BLOODY HELL!” Sirius boomed, before remembering to cancel the Sonerus charm. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known that would wake up my mom.”

“Your mom?”

“Her portrait,” Sirius clarified. “She tends to be a bit cranky when she first wakes up.”

“PIGS! BASTARDS! ROTTEN MUGGLE LOVERS! MAY THE POX TAKE YOU ALL!”

“A little?” I asked wryly. 

Sirius grimaced. “If you don’t mind, could you go try to shut her up? I can’t be late to the meeting, especially since I’m the one who called it. I’ll meet up with once it’s done, alright?”

I nodded, and we parted ways as he dashed down the hall.

I went the other way, my pace sedate even though my thoughts were whirling like a storm cloud. I had finally learned the truth, and it was a million times worse than I could’ve imagined. The Daily Prophet was doing its best to paint me as an attention-seeking madman for daring to claim that Voldemort had returned, and now it was trying to convince people that I had burnt down Privet Drive. Worse – people actually believed it. It was like the Triwizard Tournament all over again.

“FILTHY SWINE, MAGGOTS! GRUB PEDDLING RUFFIANS! – And you! Who are _you?”_ demanded an imperious voice.

The thick black curtains at the entryway had opened up to reveal a portrait. It depicted a severe woman with glossy black hair and dark purple eyes, who might’ve once been attractive, but whose face was now haggard with the ravages of time and spite.

This was the shrew who had hurt Sirius.

“Walburga Black, I presume? I’m your first cousin once removed,” I told her with a challenging eyebrow.

“Hmmph, from what line?”

“Dorea Black and Charlus Potter.”

“Bah! You’re one of those wretched Potters! Blood traitors the lot of them!”

“Oh yes,” I agreed happily. “I am a blood traitor. My mother was Lily Evans – a Muggleborn. My best friend is Hermione Granger – a Muggleborn. My godfather is Sirius Black – not a Muggleborn, but then again, he was the only member of your inbred scum family to realize how fucking disgusting you all were.”

Walburga’s scowl deepened with every word, her lips pulling so tight that she looked altogether grotesque.

“And yet somehow, I managed to defeat your precious Voldemort when I was only a baby,” I continued, my smile now taking on a feral quality.

“LIES! SLANDER! FILTH!”

“But you know, I don’t really care what you think. I don’t care about you at all. You hurt Sirius, and now, I’m going to hurt you back.”

“PUS-PEDDLING RABBLE! SCUM! UNWORTHY - !”

_“Expulso!”_

The blasting curse careened out of my wand, blowing the frame and the surrounding wall to smithereens, but not making the slightest dent on Walburga’s portrait.

She laughed. “Foolish boy! You can’t remove me! This is MY house, do you hear me? MY HOUSE! SO BEGONE, YOU FILTHY, PATHETIC, WEAK EXCUSE OF A WIZARD – !

Her laughter grew distorted and echoed in my head as everything suddenly clouded in a red haze.

_Filthy. Pathetic. Weak._

**Weak.**

_Empty eyes. Their eyes were empty._

_Melting bodies. Screams. So many screams!_

_It was all my fault._

_**Weak!** _

_**Burn down all the houssssesss! Kill everyone you ssssee!** _

The words came to me, and slipped from my mouth with practiced ease.

_“EXCRUCIA AD INFINITO!”_

A wicked reddish purple beam sizzled out of my wand and impacted right in the middle of Walburga’s face. 

Her eyes widened in shock. Right as the spell hit she had a single moment, just a moment, to recognize the truth of her imminent destruction.

And then she screamed a blood-curling scream, loud enough to shatter the nearby glass curio, as her portrait shriveled up and ate itself out of existence. 

I snarled in satisfaction, an altogether foreign sense of pride suffusing my body as I reveled in the sea of red.

The infinite torture curse. A powerful spell, more than powerful enough to dissolve whatever permanent sticking charm had held her in place. It might not work on her as it should, seeing as how a portrait lacked true sentience, but the last few moments of her existence were certain to have been as excruciating as humanly possible.

I stared at the tatters of canvass paper that littered the ground. 

Might as well be ashes and dust.

Ashes… fire…

And then suddenly, the red haze lifted.

I looked at the remnants of Walburga, and realized what I had just done. 

And promptly vomited all over the floor. 

_What… what was… what in the ever-living FUCK was that?_

I heaved, a thick nausea twisting and turning in my gut, like I had just swallowed something rotten. 

But the more I vomited, the thicker it grew, and the more I began to panic. 

_WHAT HAD I JUST DONE?_

I stumbled back to my feet, nearly slipping on the puddle of sick in front of me as I scrabbled for purchase. 

_Something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong – !_

And I had no idea what to do. Panic… panic blinded me. It removed everything but the most basic of instincts. Fight or flight.

I ran. 

I needed to go somewhere safe. I needed to get back to baseline. 

My feet took me back to the room, the only room where things had felt comfortable. 

_Safe._

The door burst open on its own accord, my magic swirling around me in a turbulent wave as everything spun out of control. The Doxy’s fled once more, the curtains trembling with their terror.

Something was wrong. I wasn’t myself. I needed to be myself again. I couldn’t think. Everything was spinning and spinning and spinning and – 

_I needed an anchor. Something. Anything!_

My scar exploded in pain, a foreign anger invading my thoughts. Voldemort was angry. No – he was FURIOUS. How could a pathetic, weak-minded child like myself affect his mental state? How dare I project my fear on to him? 

_Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!!!!_

_“STOP IT!”_

I screamed, but I wasn’t sure if it was in my mind or outside of it. Everything was blurry, the pain nearing a crescendo as my scar seared into my head.

_Anchor… need… an anchor… need to become myself again…_

I stumbled to the wooden shelves, my hands fumbling as I sought out the one thing that I instinctively knew would help. The one thing that I knew would make this all go away.

I grabbed hold of a thin silver chain, the relief palpable as I felt the cool metal hit my hands. 

I yanked the chain over my head.

And suddenly, everything stopped.

Everything stilled. 

_Silence._

As the blackness approached, I didn’t even try to fight it. I simply closed my eyes.

And I finally knew peace.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“C’mon Tom, just admit that you were lying! There’s nothing over here but rocks. Really really SHARP rocks,” Dennis Bishop complained.

“He’s right, I wanna go back!” Amy Benson pouted, trying and failing to avoid getting her knee-highs wet as she picked her way through the tide pools.

“You don’t want to go back,” I sneered, the full force of my gaze bearing down on the weak-minded girl. _You want to keep going. You want to keep going. You want…_

“Fine!” Amy gusted, with the air of having come to some great decision. “I DO want to keep going. But how much farther is it? We were supposed to be back thirty minutes ago!”

“Not far,” I muttered, turning my gaze towards Dennis, who was nibbling on his bottom lip in concern. _You don’t have to worry. This will be fun. This will impress Amy. You don’t have to worry. You should comfort her._

“Awe Amy, don’t worry!” Dennis grinned, looping his arm around her as she half-heartedly tried to bat him away. “I won’t let anything hurt you! And if Mrs. Cole gets mad, we can always just blame Tom.”

“True,” I muttered, my thoughts taking a darker turn as I thought of the spiteful matron. “She already hates me.”

“You see? She already hates him!” Dennis echoed, pleased at having found such a simple solution. “But really Tom, you better not be winding us up. If you are, I’ll have to teach you another lesson. You remember our little lesson from last week, right?”

I very nearly snarled, but only just barely managed to maintain my neutral façade. Oh, I remembered. He had cornered me in the playground and broken my wrist and two of my ribs while Amy watched and cheered him on. 

The familiar hatred bubbled up, threatening to spill over as I thought about what had happened. But no. I needed to be patient.

They would be taught a lesson of their own, soon enough.

“We’re here,” I announced, grinning in anticipation as we reached the mouth of the cave. 

Dennis and Amy hesitated, staring at the pitch-black darkness beyond the entryway. As feeble as their minds were, they doubtlessly could still hear some sort of inner warning telling them something wasn’t quite right. 

“I dunno,” Dennis said, suddenly skittish. “It doesn’t look safe. And we don’t even have any matches. I think we should head back.”

I focused my attention on Amy. 

“Amy isn’t scared, are you?” _You’re not scared. You’re not scared. You don’t want to be chicken. You’re not scared._

“I’M not scared,” Amy stated primly, brushing some imaginary dirt from her skirt. “But if you’re too chicken, you can go ahead and head back.”

“I’m not chicken!” Dennis protested, looking between me and Amy as if for confirmation. “I was just… You know… Never mind. Let’s go in already. I want to see if this cave is really as cool as Tom says.” 

I smirked.

“After you.”


End file.
